


Curiosity

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, Books, F/M, First Kiss, First War with Voldemort, Office, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-23 21:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: After seeing Bellatrix delight in the carnage of battle, Voldemort tells her to meet him in his office. While waiting for him, her curiosity piqued, Bellatrix finds a book that will kickstart her study of the Dark Arts under her master. Once Voldemort arrives, he reveals his own curiosities to Bellatrix, and she's more than happy to oblige him. Bellamort romp.





	1. Chapter 1

_August 1973_

_London_

"Right. We know there are at least five of them in there. This could get ugly," said Lord Voldemort to Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and Bellatrix. She nodded and murmured into the inky black night,

"Shall we go in wands blazing, Master, or shall we each have targets?"

"Bella, I want you to go for Adonis Copper. He's been a thorn in your side for ages, I know. He's the only one I'm certain will be here tonight. The others are more hazy. All of us… we aim to kill, and we leave corpses where they lie. Disapparate if you're in grave trouble or if the mission hits a terrible snarl; we'll meet back at Malfoy Manor no matter what. Leave the Dark Mark to me. Bella."

She bowed her head towards him from behind her cold mask. She didn't need it, of course; any member of Dumbledore's conglomeration of allies would know who the witch with the explosive black curls was. But the wizards had their faces concealed by metal, and they were all cloaked. It was important that any potential survivors were left guessing about the true identities of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix knew her husband in the little crowd of wizards, though; she knew Rodolphus' mask well by now.

"Kill Adonis Copper the moment you get the chance," Lord Voldemort was saying to Bellatrix. She raised her eyes to him and nodded.

"Of course, My Lord."

Rodolphus trained his mask on Bellatrix and gave her a nod. Whether he was seeking to be reassuring or was steadying himself, Bellatrix did not know. Rodolphus was a steady soldier for Voldemort, and he and Bellatrix had bonded with one another after graduating Hogwarts owing to their shared interest in the Dark Arts and their shared devotion to Lord Voldemort. They had married a year previously, and though they were physical and amicable, Bellatrix was not in love. She considered Rodolphus a valuable ally in this war, one with whom she happened to share her bed. There would be time, perhaps, for children, when the fighting was through. They both knew better than that right now. The war was on, and their shared energies were given wholly to Voldemort's cause.

"I shall break down the door, and we rush in. This an ambush. Kill as quickly as you can. Let's go," Voldemort snarled, as a soft rain began to fall. A distant rumble of thunder sounded, and Bellatrix's breath huffed behind her mask as she turned her eyes to her master again. She stared at him as he flicked his gaze up and down her form and reminded her, "Go straight for Copper."

"Master," Bellatrix breathed. She followed him then, and Rodolphus stepped up alongside her. Her boots pattered on the path as the rain began to fall a bit harder, and Bellatrix gripped her wand carefully. She glanced up to Rodolphus and said to him, "Fight well, Dolph."

"I don't have to say the same to you," he said quietly. "You always fight well. I can only hope to fight like you, Bella."

She smirked behind her mask and sighed. In front of her, Lord Voldemort moved like a wraith, stalking with long strides as his black robes billowed around him. He was a man in his mid-forties, Bellatrix knew. His face was distantly handsome - aged, chipped and scarred, but still disarming. Druella Black had gone to school with Lord Voldemort back when he'd been Tom Riddle, and she'd told Bellatrix that the Dark Lord had been the most handsome pupil Hogwarts had ever known. Cygnus Black III had coloured scarlet at the dinner table and had changed the subject of conversation at that point, so Bellatrix hadn't been able to ask for specifics. But what Bellatrix knew was that she was terribly attracted to the powerful wizard before her. His manner of speech, his unflinching ambition, the way his eyes looked in meetings when he locked his focus onto someone and wouldn't let go. He was magnetic. His power was almost immeasurable.

Now he stomped up the steps leading to the house they were targeting, and Bellatrix and Rodolphus trotted behind him. Rabastan, Bellatrix's brother-in-law, was close behind. So was Lucius Malfoy, who was engaged to Bellatrix's youngest sister Narcissa. As for Dolohov, well, he was a fellow fighter, but Bellatrix hardly knew him. Tonight, their wands would be united against Albus Dumbledore and all his little friends.

"_Alohomora__._" Voldemort aimed his wand at the door, and Bellatrix frowned behind her mask. He'd spoken of 'blasting down the door.' She'd thought, surely, that he'd have to undo all sorts of protective enchantments and wards to get into the house. But all he'd cast was a simple unlocking charm they'd all learnt in their first year at Hogwarts. Had Dumbledore really not been expecting them here tonight? Had Dumbledore's allies really been this stupid? It was possible, she thought. Anything was possible; even a powerful wizard like Dumbledore could get complacent.

Voldemort flung the door open with a swish of his pale wand and walked right into the house. There was an almost immediate flash of jade green light, and Bellatrix heard him bellow a Killing Curse. She wasn't sure who he'd murdered, but she followed him inside without a second thought and held her wand out, her hand not trembling in the slightest. She rushed forward, making way for the others. They scattered, and there were sudden footsteps surging out of rooms in the house.

"_Stupefy!"_ cried a witch's voice, and Bellatrix saw a flash of blue light to her left.

"_Avada_ _Kedavra__!"_ That was Rodolphus' voice, and Bellatrix laughed rather maniacally at the sound of her husband doing their master's bidding so efficiently. She hoped his spell had been true, that his aim had been accurate.

"_Flipendo_ _Duo!_" cried a voice, and Bellatrix scowled as light came whipping toward her. She slashed her own wand through the air, sending the charged Knockback Jinx crackling as she blocked it. She did slide backward a bit on the floorboards, but she managed, for the most part, to repel the jinx. She narrowed her eyes behind her mask and spit out the name of her enemy.

"Adonis Copper. _AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Vivid green light exploded out of the tip of her wand, rocketed through the air, and blasted against the chest of the tall, handsome, twenty-something Adonis Copper. He stiffened and went wide-eyed, and then he crumpled like dirty laundry. He was dead; she knew he was dead the moment he hit the floor. Bellatrix coughed out a gleeful laugh and dashed over to Adonis Copper's body, kicking it with her boot and taunting the corpse in a sing-song voice,

"Not so handsome now that we're dead, are we, Adonis? Eh?"

"Bella!"

She whirled around to see Voldemort, standing quite near her. In another room, something glass shattered, and someone screamed. Bellatrix cleared her throat and stopped her mockery at once, bowing her head.

"Well done," Voldemort said quietly. "You've done your duty here. I don't want to risk you getting hurt. There are only two left; I'll get them. Go back to Malfoy Manor and meet me in my office. I wish to speak with you."

He turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving Bellatrix alone with the corpse of her prey. She blinked behind her mask and felt confused. He wished to speak with her? Was she in trouble? Had she done something wrong? She heard Voldemort snarl out another Killing Curse, saw the glow of telltale green light come from the parlour beyond the stairs, and heard a _thunk_ as a body collapsed. She had to go, she thought. He had ordered her to go, to wait for him in his office. Bellatrix gulped and whirled hard to her right, Disapparating from the spot.

When she came to, she was outside the door of Malfoy Manor. Only a select few Death Eaters could Apparate anywhere near the entrance of the expansive manse, and Voldemort had recently bandied about the idea of expanding the protective perimeter to prevent a potential battle on the Malfoy Manor grounds. But for now, Bellatrix was able to appear just below the grand steps leading up to the double front doors, and she padded through the spongy grass and then onto the hard marble stairs. She raised her hand and thudded the round brass knocker a few times. She pulled her mask off and held it in her left hand. Dobby, the Malfoys' House-Elf, opened the door just a moment later, looking absolutely terrified.

"W-Welcome, Madam Lestrange," Dobby said, opening the door further. "May Dobby get you tea?"

"No. I'm going to his office." Bellatrix shoved the elf aside with her boot and clacked her way into the foyer, climbing the flight of stairs to the main level and walking down the carpet runner past parlours and a library. It was warm today, so Bellatrix had worn a simple black linen dress and a wide belt with knee-high flat black boots. Still, she felt sticky, even in the cooled manor. She aimed her wand at herself and cast a few quick refreshing charms to do away with the sweaty, summery feeling, and at once she felt like she was fresh out of the bath.

Soon enough she reached the broad mahogany door that she knew led to Lord Voldemort's office, and she stared at it for a moment. She'd only been inside his office a few times. The first time, she'd been eighteen and freshly home from Hogwarts. He'd put the Dark Mark on her arm and made her promise to serve him forever. She had more than willingly agreed, leaving the space with a bounce in her step and a flutter in her chest. The second time she'd gone into the office, she and Rodolphus had met with Lord Voldemort to declare their intention to marry, and to ask for their master's blessing. Voldemort had seemed oddly peeved by the entire affair, but Bellatrix had assumed he had just been wholly uninterested in the romances between his Death Eaters. The last time Bellatrix had come into the office, it had been because she had needed to get more information about a target after a meeting, and Voldemort had called her in to give her a dossier. He had poured himself firewhisky as he'd explained the mission. Bellatrix remembered now that he'd offered her some, but she hated firewhisky, so she'd politely declined. She'd taken the information and left. That had been six months earlier.

Now she put her hand on the heavy brass knob and turned it, pushing open the door and swallowing hard. Why was his office unlocked, she wondered? Certainly, he had all sorts of important documents and private information in here. Almost immediately, as though in answer to her mental query, a shadowy, dusty figure materialised on the far side of the wood-paneled office. It wisped and formed in the air, whirling and whizzing toward Bellatrix. She shrieked a little as it seemed, strangely, to take the shape of Lord Voldemort himself. But then it burst apart, just before hitting Bellatrix, and all the motes of dark dust vanished. She realised then that he had indeed warded this place up, in his own way. It was guarded, she thought, with spells to keep out any enemy who would come snooping. But the magic had recognised Bellatrix as a friendly force. She gulped and shut the door behind her, stepping slowly into the office. She licked her lips and tucked her wand into the holster on her belt, looking around the office.

He had an entire wall of books, many of them evidently old. Bellatrix's curiosity piqued, and she stepped slowly toward the bookshelves. By the light of the flickering wall sconces, she read a few of the titles stamped in gold foil or carefully etched onto leather spines.

_Unicorn Horn and Its Dark Uses_

_The Shadowy Magic of France_

_Sixteen Lessons I Learnt __Studying_ _Magic in China_

_A Year In Quiet Darkness_

Bellatrix pulled the last title off the shelf, tipping her head as she opened the brown leather book and examined the first page of text. She scanned through the introductory paragraphs and discovered that _A Year In Quiet Darkness_ was the memoir of a witch who had been Cursed deaf and blind in a duel with her estranged husband. Left without a wand, without her sight, and without hearing, the witch survived and eventually regained use of her senses.

"That," said a voice behind Bellatrix, "is a fascinating read, but hearing the tale is far more interesting when one speaks with Tiresia Pindar herself."

Bellatrix shut the book and turned, bowing her head respectfully as Lord Voldemort came walking into the office. Then she breathed in wonder,

"Tiresia Pindar… you mean the author of _A Year In Quiet Darkness? _You met her, My Lord?"

"Indeed. You'll notice that's a signed copy," Voldemort said. "She taught me a good deal about how to handle myself, should I ever find myself in a situation where the enemy has managed to disable me somehow and I need to regain control. Would you care to borrow the book? It might do you good, as my soldier, to read it."

Bellatrix glanced down at the book in her hands and then raised her eyes to Voldemort. She smiled weakly and nodded. "I would be very careful with it, Master, and read and return it promptly."

"Yes. Well, take your time; it's been sitting on that shelf for years." Voldemort sighed and walked over to his drinks cart. "Rodolphus took a nasty Knockback Jinx and seems a bit concussed; he went home with Rabastan for the night to recuperate. He said to tell you he'll see you in the morning."

Bellatrix blinked. "Is he quite all right, Master?"

"He's fine." Voldemort uncorked a bottle of Blishen's and poured some into a glistening tumbler. He held up a second, empty tumbler and said, "I know you don't like this stuff, but…"

"Thank you, anyway, My Lord," Bellatrix murmured. She wondered again why he'd asked her to come to his office. Was she in trouble? She hugged his book to her chest and stepped away from the bookshelves as he corked up the Blishen's and sipped a little from his glass. He tipped his head as she asked, "What about the others? Were any more of ours hurt? Did we get all of them?"

"All of theirs are dead," Voldemort confirmed. "There were six. You had entirely too much fun with Adonis Copper, though I must say it's rather amusing to watch you taunt a fresh corpse."

He sipped again and sighed. Bellatrix curled up half her mouth and admitted quietly,

"It's quite satisfying, Master. Killing for you."

"Mmm." He stared into his glass of firewhisky and swirled it slowly. "Lucius Malfoy somehow managed to Splinch on his way back here. Nervous energy or something. Your sister's fussing over him upstairs."

Bellatrix frowned. "Is it anything serious?"

"Split lip. Nothing a simple _Episkey_ couldn't fix, of course, but I let your sister be his little mother hen."

Bellatrix laughed a bit and scratched at her curls. "That was merciful of you, My Lord."

"Oh. Well. That is never my intention… mercy." He flicked his eyes up to Bellatrix and sipped his firewhisky again. Suddenly her core twisted, and she hugged the book more tightly than ever. She gulped, feeling a flush go through her. She _wanted_ him, she realised. She'd always been attracted to him, but tonight, something was different. She felt an odd desire to be closer to him, to put her hands on him, and she found herself letting out shaky breaths through her parted lips.

"You're not exactly one for mercy, either, are you?" Lord Voldemort raised his eyebrows and sighed. He seemed steady, but his eyes kept going up and down Bellatrix's form as though he were searching for something. "I told you to commit murder for me tonight, Bellatrix, and you did it with pleasure. You did it without hesitation, and you enjoyed it. You mocked your victim; you kicked his body, and you taunted him after you murdered him. Didn't you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix could not manage to choke out any more than that one syllable. She knew she ought to add something else at the end. _My Lord. Master. Of course I did, just for you, My Lord._ But all she could whimper was, _yes._

He was silent for a long moment, and he finally took a few steps over towards his desk, standing closer to Bellatrix now. She shivered as she breathed in the scent of him, cold and oceanic. He set down his nearly empty tumbler on the desk and touched his long fingertips to the corner of the furniture. He brushed them along the wood and said quietly,

"You are… pretty."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open, and she said nothing at all. Voldemort just stared at her, one of his eyebrows cocking up. Finally, he whispered,

"_Thank you, Master._"

"Th-thank you, Master," Bellatrix echoed, and Voldemort wet his bottom lip.

"I have, for some time, felt a sense of curiosity surrounding you."

"Curiosity, My Lord?" Bellatrix felt like a parrot now, like an obnoxious bird just repeating everything he said. He nodded and sniffed lightly.

"I have wondered, for instance, what a kiss between you and me might taste like. I have wondered for some time what your waist - that tiny little waist of yours - might feel like beneath my palm, what your curls might feel like with my fingers tangled in them."

Bellatrix had absolutely no idea what to say. She gripped the book she was holding so hard that her hands hurt, and she whispered,

"I… erm… I am curious, too, My Lord."

"Are you?" He sounded bored, though she could tell he was not. He picked up his glass of firewhisky and swigged the rest of it down. He set down the empty glass and huffed out a breath, taking a few steps and closing the gap between himself and Bellatrix. He snatched the copy of _A Year In Quiet Darkness_ out of Bellatrix's hands and wandlessly Banished it back to the desk behind him, and before Bellatrix knew what was happening, Voldemort had pushed one hand straight into her hair and had put the other on her thick leather belt. He drew her near to him with a pull of his right hand, which migrated to the small of her back. The fingers of his left hand snared into her wild mane of black curls, and his dark eyes flashed suddenly. His breath audibly quickened, and Bellatrix could tell that this was doing _something_ to him. She blinked up at him, feeling more alive than she'd ever felt, and she whispered helplessly,

"Please, may I touch you, Master?"

He just nodded, and Bellatrix let her shaking fingers go to the front of his black robes. She touched at his chest, feeling the way it was rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. His deep eyes blazed at her as he pulled her even closer, and his fingers cinched in her hair until it almost hurt. Bellatrix's eyes fluttered shut; she adored the feel of his hands on her. She was drowning in him, in the sensation of his touch. She still had her eyes shut when she felt the press of lips on hers, and she gasped. He took the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, and Bellatrix grappled at his chest as she realized that he - _Lord Voldemort - _was actually kissing her. Her fingers convulsed on his robes as he took a deep breath and rubbed at her scalp with his left hand. His right hand pressed flat against her back, yanking her snugly against him until she could feel the evidence of his want. His tongue dragged against the roof of her mouth, and he suckled on her lip before soothing it with a draw of his tongue. She moaned like an absolute whore against him, but he stayed quiet except for the puffs of his quick breathing.

After what seemed at once like an eternity and half an instant, he pulled away, releasing Bellatrix and letting his hands fall to his sides. He looked away, and Bellatrix staggered backward, sensing that he no longer wanted her to be so close. She was so aroused she could hardly breathe, and as she dragged her wrist over her swollen lips, she let out a little whimper and shut her eyes.

"Interesting," she heard Voldemort say. She wanted to ask him if she'd been anything like what he'd wanted, if she'd been what he'd expected. He had been curious. Had she lived up to his desires? She stared at him, and he stared at the copy of _A Year In Quiet Darkness _on his desk. He blinked and said quietly,

"Your husband is staying with his brother to recover from that nasty Knockback Jinx."

Bellatrix chomped her lip. Was he going to command her to stay the night? She opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, but then Voldemort shook his head firmly and picked up the book. He shoved it into Bellatrix's arms and gave her a hard, steely look.

"I'd like you to read this," he said, "as soon as possible. It is useful to know how to undo the effects of a nasty curse. This isn't the sort of thing they teach you in school, and not all of our enemies are meek. Read the book and return it to me when you've finished. I'll have more reading for you to do when you're through with that. And I'd like for you to study Occlumency with me; your mind is wide open, and it'd be useful all around if you were a closed door, as it were."

Bellatrix frowned but wrapped the book up in her arms and nodded. She walked over to the bookshelf where she'd set her mask down, and she picked it up. She licked her lip and still felt his kiss there, and she asked carefully,

"Is there anything else, My Lord?"

He shut his eyes and was silent again. Then he shoved his hands into the pockets of the trousers beneath his robe and shook his head. "No, Bella. Nothing else. Well done tonight. Goodbye."

Bellatrix's stomach twisted strangely as she flicked her eyes between her master and the door. She nodded firmly and glanced down at the book he'd given her.

"Goodbye, Master," she said softly, and she headed for the door.

**A/N: Please do review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_August 1973_

_Kensington, London_

Bellatrix bit into her apple and chewed, turning the page of the book that was flattened on the dining room table. She set down her apple and swallowed her bite, picking up her glass of pumpkin juice and sipping.

"What are you reading?" asked Rodolphus from across the table. Bellatrix set down her pumpkin juice and picked up her scone. She chewed a bite and washed it down with a little more pumpkin juice, and she met her husband's cheerful blue eyes.

"It's a book called _A Year In Quiet Darkness,_" Bellatrix explained. "It's written by a witch called Tiresia Pindar. Her husband, who hated her, cursed her and took away her sight and hearing. He also snapped her wand. She was forced to survive on her own - figuring out how not to starve or die of thirst - whilst blind and deaf, all the while trying to regain use of her senses."

"Interesting." Rodolphus chomped on his own scone. He swigged some pumpkin juice and speared a rasher with his fork. "Did she ever manage to hear or see again? I reckon she must've, if she wrote that book."

"She rather brilliantly made her way to Athens," said Bellatrix, "by communicating carefully through writing and by speaking quietly to strangers. Eventually, she worked her way to the magical centre of the city, and then she got help. She got a new wand."

"And what happened to her husband?" Rodolphus asked, setting down his fork and sausage. "The one who cursed away her senses and broke her wand?"

"Well, I'm very nearly finished with the book," Bellatrix said, "but I do not suspect that Tiresia Pindar will reveal what revenge she took."

Rodolphus smirked. "Where did you get a book like that, anyway? Been off to Knockturn Alley?"

"Oh. Erm… no. It belongs to the Dark Lord. He loaned it to me. He wanted me to read it, to learn how to defend and heal myself in case an enemy ever cast a curse like this upon me." Bellatrix bit into her apple again and sniffed, glancing down at her book.

_By the time I could see again, the light was blinding. The clarity of outlines was shocking; had things always been so vivid? Had colours always been so vibrant? Somehow, in a year, my memory of what things looked like had faded and collapsed. I had forgotten, in a way, what it meant to perceive the world through sight at all. This does not mean in any way that I had lost my appreciation for the ability to see. Instead, it meant that I had begun to adapt, purely out of necessity. When given my sense of sight again, I hardly knew what to do with it at first. I quickly realised that I -_

"Bella?"

She looked up again, still holding her apple, and stared at Rodolphus. He raised his honey-toned eyebrows and wondered,

"The Dark Lord is… assigning you homework?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I suppose you could say that. He wants to train me a little more. Work my mind and abilities a little harder."

"But you're already his most ferocious Death Eater," Rodolphus argued. "You're already so much better at fighting than the rest of us."

"Well, perhaps that's why he wants to train me further," Bellatrix shrugged, taking another bite of apple. She chewed it and still had a mouthful as she mused, "Perhaps he wants me to be exceptionally skilled so that I can serve him even better. I won't complain. Will you?"

"No. Of course not," Rodolphus said softly. "I'm proud of you. He thinks so highly of you."

Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She thought back a few days, to when Voldemort had snared his fingers into her hair and pulled her close by her belt. She thought of the cold, oceanic smell of him, of the feel of his tongue grazing over her lip. She shut her eyes and set down her apple on her plate.

"Bizzy," she snapped," I've finished with my breakfast."

"You've hardly eaten," Rodolphus protested, but Bellatrix opened her eyes as the House-Elf appeared in the flat's dining room and used magic to clear Bellatrix's plate and glass away. She shut her copy of _A Year In Quiet Darkness _and said softly,

"I'm going to the parlour to finish reading this, and then I'm going to return it. I promised I'd get it back to him quickly."

"Yes. Of course." Rodolphus nodded. He pushed the tines of his fork into another rasher and said, "I'm going to finish my breakfast."

"See you, then." Bellatrix pushed back her chair, and Rodolphus said carefully,

"Bella."

She paused, standing across the table from where he sat, holding the book in one hand and suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious in her wispy black nightgown. Rodolphus looked her up and down and turned up half his mouth as he told her,

"I really mucked up on the mission, taking that Knockback Jinx and slamming my head. But I heard you blocked Adonis Copper's attack and took him out like it was nothing. Rabastan heard you taunting Copper after you killed him."

"Yes, well, the Dark Lord quickly put a stop to that folly and sent me away," Bellatrix shrugged. "I'm glad your head is all right now. _The Daily Prophet_ is still shrieking about the 'massacre.' We've got them in an utter panic. It's glorious, isn't it?"

"Glorious," Rodolphus agreed. "Go and finish your book."

She smiled a little at him and nodded, walking out of the dining room with Lord Voldemort's book in her hand.

* * *

Bellatrix stood staring at the double doors of Malfoy Manor and chewed so hard on her lip that she thought it would bleed. Never in all the time she'd been a Death Eater had she felt nervous standing here. Well, that wasn't quite right. She'd been awfully nervous the day Lord Voldemort had put the Dark Mark upon her. But things had changed since then. She had tortured and killed for him. She'd sat in meetings where he'd crowed about news stories fearfully telling of their deeds. She had listened to him lecture the Death Eaters about Dumbledore here. Bellatrix was strong, and wild, and mostly fearless. But right now, for some reason, she was terrified.

It was because he had held her, she thought. It was because her lord and master had put his hands upon her and had pushed his tongue between her lips, and had given her a book, and had sent her away. He'd thought for a moment about having her spend the night, she knew. But then he'd thought the better of that and had dismissed her. Now she stood with his book clutched to her chest, wearing a simple long-sleeved black linen dress, and she sighed. She finally gathered the courage to raise her hand and slam the knocker against the door three times, and she shut her eyes as she whispered,

"It'll be fine."

"Bellatrix."

Bellatrix opened her eyes and was shocked to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway. She scowled and tightened her jaw, demanding rather rudely,

"Where's the elf?"

"Oh." Lucius' pale brows rose, and he explained, "My mother has some friends over… your own mother's here, as it happens. Dobby is attending to them."

"I see. I don't much care to see my mother today, if I can help it," Bellatrix said. "I didn't come for her, you understand."

"You came for him, I take it," Lucius said, and Bellatrix realised she was still standing outside the manor.

"May I come in?" she snapped, and Lucius opened the door and stood aside.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Shall I show you to his office? You know the way."

"I can go myself. Tell Cissy I said hello," Bellatrix said. Lucius flashed her a little smile and shut the door, and Bellatrix pattered past him and up the flight of stairs in the foyer. She walked as briskly as she could down the carpet runner and past the parlour where she heard a gaggle of witches chattering. She didn't want her mother to catch sight of her, so she practically dashed past the open doorway. By the time she reached the stout entrance to Voldemort's office, she was breathless and her cheeks were hot. She knocked quickly and firmly on his door, and when, after a moment, he did not answer, she dared to knock again.

His door opened, and suddenly he was standing before her in a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and woolen trousers. It appeared as though he'd removed his outer robe and hadn't put it back on before answering his office door. Bellatrix felt her lips fall open a little, and she gulped. She held out the book and said quietly, so her mother down the corridor did not hear her,

"I have come to return your book, Master."

"Do come in." Voldemort made way for her to enter, and once she did, he shut the door and gestured toward his desk. There was a chair clearly meant for him, a grand piece of furniture with brass nail trimmings and extravagant brown leather. There was a smaller chair on the other side of the desk, carved wood, and Voldemort said softly, "Sit."

Bellatrix obeyed at once, sinking into the wooden chair. She still held his copy of _A Year In Quiet Darkness,_ so she set it on his desk and watched as he went to his drinks cart. He seemed to contemplate the bottle of firewhisky before him, then glanced at the clock on his wall and looked back at the cart. He finally reached for a different bottle, and Bellatrix read the label. _Cucumber Lemon Water with Mint. _Bellatrix licked her lip, feeling suddenly thirsty.

"_Glacius__._" Voldemort cast Freezing Charms upon the two glasses that he brought out, and then he uncorked the bottle of Cucumber Lemon Water with Mint and poured it into the chilled vessels. He corked the bottle again and carried the glasses over to the desk. He sat in his own chair, pushing Bellatrix's drink toward her and musing,

"I trust you'll like this better than firewhisky."

Bellatrix smiled and picked up the glass. She sipped and let out a happy little noise, setting down the glass.

"Delicious, Master," she affirmed. "Thank you."

"So." He drummed his fingers on his desk. "You've finished the book."

"I have." Bellatrix threaded her fingers into her curls and pushed them back from her face. She watched Voldemort's eyes shift a little at the action, and he cleared his throat and sipped his refreshing drink. Bellatrix huffed a breath and said, "I thought it was absolutely brilliant, the way she managed to function, really function, without the sight and sound her husband took from her. Using her other senses, like touch and smell and taste, to keep herself safe, showed a real ability to survive. And it was a mark of sheer determination, the way she resolved to get back to wizarding Athens and find magical assistance. I must ask, and Dolph was interested, too… do you know what happened to her husband?"

"She killed him, eventually," Voldemort smirked. "She didn't put that bit in the book."

Bellatrix grinned. She sipped her Cucumber Lemon Water, tasting the crisp mint finish, and she hummed, "I'd have done the same."

"You'd have done worse, probably," Voldemort guessed. He aimed his pale wand at the book and then arced it toward the bookshelf, nonverbally Banishing _A Year In Quiet Darkness_ back to its shelf. "I've another text for you to study, on the topic of self-defence in combat. _Accio Secure Safeguards For Diabolical Duels._"

Bellatrix chuckled a little at the over-the-top title, but as a thin little book came soaring out of the shelf, she forced her smile away and steadied her face. Voldemort caught the little turquoise volume and held it out to Bellatrix, who bowed her head as she took it. She opened the book to the first full page of text and began reading aloud.

"_Most instruction in duelling includes some training in deflecting, blocking, and even dissolving oncoming spells. __Protego_ _is, perhaps, one of the most important spells in self-defence instruction of young witches and wizards. More advanced duelling combatants, however, can achieve more than simple blockage and protection. With the right spells, the right skill, and the right willpower, skilled practitioners can cause oncoming hexes and jinxes to rebound to their casters."_

"Your skills in battle are undeniable," said Lord Voldemort quietly. "I have never seen anyone kill as efficiently and effectively as you."

That wasn't true, Bellatrix thought at once. She wasn't nearly as vicious as him. But he curled up half his mouth and dragged a fingertip around the rim of his chilled glass as he murmured,

"You and I are both terribly cruel, and I like it that way. I did also see the way you blocked Adonis Copper's jinx. I think it would be even better if you could manage to whip hexes back at opponents we mean to capture instead of kill. This book contains skills I'd like for you to bring to our next battle."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix shut the book and nodded. "I shall read it carefully and have Dolph practise with me. I'm sure he won't mind dealing with a pumpkin head or a few chicken feathers in the name of the cause."

"I shall work with you, once you've mastered the theory," Voldemort said lightly. Bellatrix raised her brows and glanced out the window behind him. She swallowed hard, imagining herself locked into a practise duel with Lord Voldemort. She blinked and murmured,

"So it is true, then, Master. You wish to train me harder than the others."

"I wish for you to be the soldier I know you can be," Voldemort told her in a crisp tone. "I spent years studying the Dark Arts on the Continent. Why ought I not pass on some of those lessons to my most ferocious lieutenant?"

Bellatrix's eyes watered. She found herself overwhelmed by the idea that he considered her his best fighter, that he wanted to tutor and equip her more thoroughly for combat. Would she be spending more time in this office with him, drinking infused water and discussing his books? Would he kiss her again? Would he touch her again?

"Bellatrix." She raised her eyes to him, and Voldemort gave her a serious look. He nodded and said,

"I will teach you to be the finest Dark witch this world has seen in some time. But you must be willing to work diligently. You will read all the texts I provide you. You will practise duels with me. You will learn Occlumency. There will be more once you've mastered all that. Your Dark studies are critical; I require that my servants act to the fullest extent of their abilities. I know you are capable of more, Bella. You kill with abandon. You are a beautifully impressive murderess. But you could be…"

He trailed off, and he pulled his teeth over his bottom lip before he finished almost gently,

"Magnificent."

Bellatrix lowered her head again, feeling so bashful that she could hardly breathe. She stared at the book in her hands, much smaller than the other text she'd borrowed, and opened it to a random page.

_When an unknown Hex or Jinx flies toward you and is cast nonverbally, your instinct may be __to immediately cast_ _Protego__. It will take time and effort to train away this instinct and replace it with the impulse __to instead cast_ _Remittet__. This spell is cast with a simple downward slice of the wand and must be exclaimed clearly. The Hex or Jinx will rebound off its target and bounce back to its caster, who will probably not expect it._

Bellatrix shut the book and nodded. She raised her eyes again to Voldemort. "I will work earnestly for you, Master. My every waking moment will be consumed with -"

"Bella."

She froze, watching as her master picked up his chilled glass of Cucumber Lemon Water and sipped it. He seemed resolved then, and he pushed back his chair and rose. He stepped around his desk and pushed up his rolled sleeves a little further. Bellatrix took a moment to admire his lean, sinewy forearms as he crossed them over his chest. His throat bobbed a little as he neared Bellatrix's chair, and she found herself wondering if she should stand. He gazed down at her, and at last she pushed herself up on shaking arms and pushed the chair back with her booted foot.

"I… am curious," Voldemort said, clearing his throat a bit and averting his eyes. "I find myself wondering about your… I am curious, you see, about your chest."

Bellatrix choked out a bit of an awkward sound at that, and she felt her cheeks flush hot. She licked her dry bottom lip and repeated nervously,

"M-My chest, Master?"

"Mmm-hmm." He blinked, still looking away. His shoulders began swelling more deeply, but he said nothing.

Bellatrix took a trembling breath and closed the space between herself and Lord Voldemort. She was so fearful now, so hesitant to reach out and touch him, but something within her compelled her to extend her fingertips toward his fist. He still had his arms crossed, and his wand was clutched tightly in his right hand, but his left hand twitched a little as her fingers approached. Finally, he uncrossed his arms, and Bellatrix let her own hand fall to her side again. She started to take a step back, but Voldemort caught her by the small of her back and pulled her close at once. He yanked her snugly against him, his teeth digging into his lip as he stared down at her.

"You carry an aroma with you," he murmured. "Cinnamon and clove. So much warmer than, erm… it is pleasant, I find."

She wanted to tell him that he smelled like the ocean in winter. She wanted to tell him that he was hard as stone and iron, that his eyes were filled with shadows that drew her in. But instead she just stared up at him, finally realising she was close enough to see the faint lines and wrinkles in his skin, and she felt his hand splay on her back.

"I will study, My Lord," she promised him at long last, "and I will practise, and I will become the finest soldier you could ever -"

He used his free hand to cup her jaw then, and his wand pressed lengthwise against her cheek. She was breathless, and as he bent, she sucked in air hard. He pressed his lips to hers, and his left hand drew around from her back. Up her ribcage he went, over her linen dress until at last he reached the front of her chest. Bellatrix hummed onto his mouth, shocked by the feel of his hand compressing on the tissue of her breast. He massaged her a bit, squeezing and exploring. He cupped the weight of her small, round breast in his hand, curling his fingers and dragging his thumb over her hardening nipple. Through the thin material of her dress and her lace bra, the peak firmed, and he caressed it with the pad of his thumb as Bellatrix gasped.

His wand crushed her jaw and cheek as his hand tightened on her face, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue swirled between her lips and dragged along hers, finally pulling it into her mouth and suckling. He released her tongue after a moment and moved his attention to her lip, nibbling it and drawing it between his teeth. He was so dominating, Bellatrix thought. She collapsed against him a little, letting him fondle her breast and hold her face. Finally, when it felt like the two of them were completely out of air, Voldemort released Bellatrix, and she staggered backward, panting and flushed between her legs. She was burning, she thought. Her veins were on fire. Lord Voldemort had lit her on fire.

_Well?_ she wanted to scream. _Still curious? What did you think of my chest, Master?_

But he just stood there, gnawing on his lip and staring at the copy of the spellbook he'd given her where it lay on his desk. He examined her glass of chilled Cucumber Lemon Water and folded his arms against his chest. Bellatrix flicked her eyes around his form and could not help but notice the sizeable lump at the front of his trousers. He was aroused, she realised. He had enjoyed that, all of that. He had enjoyed kissing her and touching her.

He walked slowly around his desk and rolled down the black sleeves of his shirt, doing up the buttons at the wrists. He used his wand to cast a nonverbal Ironing Charm to get the wrinkles out of his shirtsleeves, and he cleared his throat roughly as he pulled his lightweight outer robe off the rack behind his desk and donned it. He buckled up the silver clasp at his chest and sat in his heavy leather chair, picking up his icy glass of refreshing drink and sipping at it.

"Mustn't make a habit of this," he said tightly. "You come here to get a new book, I kiss you, I send you on your way. That mustn't become normal, you understand."

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She picked up the copy of _Secure Safeguards For Diabolical Duels._ "Shall I write you an owl once I've finished with this?"

"You should… erm…" Voldemort sipped at his cool drink again and then pushed the glass away a bit. "You know, your Dark Mark will go black and burn on Sunday."

"Is there to be a meeting, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, feeling inquisitive now. He nodded.

"Our ambush in London went well. We did so well because we had good intelligence going in, and because we did well in combat. I would like for us to gather even more information, and to be even better prepared next time. This meeting will reinforce the importance of espionage, Ministry profiling, tracking, and battle readiness. That's all."

"Oh. I look forward to it, Master," Bellatrix said with a little smile.

"I'm sure you do." He glanced at his bookshelf, as though considering a few more titles, and he said, "That gives you three days to read that little book. You're a bright witch; I'm sure that's plenty of time."

"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix agreed.

"Good. After the meeting, we shall draw up a schedule, a few sessions for duelling practise to train you in rebounding spells. I'll have a new text for you, as well. There will be none of the silliness that we… you know, none of the nonsense."

_Nonsense._ Bellatrix's chest ached a little. She blinked rapidly and struggled to keep her face steady. She nodded and whispered,

"Of course, Master."

"You may go, then," he said, and Bellatrix pushed back her chair. She rose and bowed her head, holding his little turquoise spellbook and suddenly feeling him all over again. She could taste him, smell him, feel his hands all over her. She met his eyes and said in a soft voice,

"Good day, My Lord."

He just nodded, so she turned and started to walk toward the door. She was almost there when he called from behind her,

"Bella."

She whirled around, and he was staring, steely eyed, from where he sat at his desk. His lips parted, then closed, and then opened again.

"See you Sunday, then," he said at last, and Bellatrix nodded.

"My Lord." She put her hand on the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door, feeling dizzy as she made her way out of his office and wondering if her mother was still here. Just in case, she trotted briskly down the corridor toward the foyer, and as soon as she was out in the gardens, she Disapparated with an uncharacteristically loud _crack._

**Author's Note: I have decided to turn this ****fic** **into a class of stories I refer to as a "romp," which are typically around 25,000 words. I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I will definitely be finishing **_**In Pursuit, **_**possibly while also writing this one. Since this story is becoming a romp, its rating is being changed to M. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Bloody hell. Could it be raining any harder?" Rodolphus came to with Bellatrix just outside of Malfoy Manor and whipped up the hood of his waterproofed cloak. Not too far away, a bolt of lightning flashed, and it was immediately followed by a great crack of thunder. Bellatrix startled, touching at the book she'd tucked into her thick belt beneath her own rain cloak. The water that poured from the heavens soaked her curls as she dashed with Rodolphus toward the manor. She slipped on one of the marble stairs leading up to the front doors, and Rodolphus caught her arm, dragging her up. Bellatrix grappled to be sure that the book was still in her belt, and as she stood, she mumbled,

"Sorry."

"You all right?" Rodolphus shoved the door open, and Bellatrix nodded. On meeting days, there was no need to knock. They went striding into the foyer and saw a few other Death Eaters ahead of them. Rookwood was walking in, and beyond him were Yaxley, Avery, and Selwyn. Bellatrix shivered as she and Rodolphus climbed the foyer stairs, and she heard another rumble of thunder from outside.

"Dolph," called a voice from behind them, and Bellatrix turned to see her brother-in-law, Rabastan Lestrange, hustling toward them. Rabastan was more lean and dark than Rodolphus, with a pointy little beard and thin eyebrows. He trotted along the carpet runner until he caught up with his brother, and he noted, "Raining Pygmy Puffs out there, isn't it?"

"Lovely weather," Bellatrix smirked. "You know, I find I actually don't mind days like today. They energise me."

"Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?" Rabastan shook his head and grinned. "I'll let the two of you be the first to know… I'm going to ask Rosetta to marry me. Tonight, at dinner."

"Oh, that's wondrous," Rodolphus nodded. "I hope she says yes."

"Why on Earth would she say no, Dolph? Rosetta's no idiot," Bellatrix said. She flicked her eyes to Rabastan and said, "You ought to have done it last night, so that you could make an announcement at the meeting."

"I considered that," Rabastan said. "Rather lost my nerve."

Bellatrix scowled at him as the trio approached the meeting room. They walked inside, and Bellatrix surveyed the table. Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy were seated near the head of the table, owing to the fact that this was their house. Yaxley, Avery, Selwyn, Rookwood, Mulciber, all three Carrow Death Eaters, and both of the Greengrass siblings were seated. Bellatrix spotted three empty chairs to the left of Lucius Malfoy, and she walked toward them. She raised her eyes toward her lord and master, who was at the head of the table, and she locked gazes with him. Lord Voldemort's throat bobbed visibly, and his hands folded on the table. He tipped his head and observed in the quiet room,

"The rain has picked up, it seems."

Bellatrix realised her wild curls were soaked through, and she smiled weakly. She unclasped her rain cloak and hung it on the back of her chair, and she said,

"Indeed, My Lord, it is a veritable deluge."

"Bellatrix was just saying, Master, that she enjoys weather like this," joked Rabastan Lestrange, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes a little, opening her mouth to defend herself. But Voldemort curled up half his mouth and said,

"Yes. I suppose Bellatrix, of all people, would see the good in a tempest. Do sit; we've business to conduct."

His eyes went to her waist then, and she pulled out the small turquoise copy of _Secure Safeguards For Diabolical Duels. _She sank into her high-backed chair and scooted it in, its legs scraping the ground as she did. She set the book on the table and drummed her fingernails upon it, staring at its cover. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Horton Burke and Thymus Shacklebolt come in and sit. Then the statuesque but harsh-faced wife of Picardy Selwyn, who had for some reason not arrived with him, entered the room and sat as far away from her husband as she could manage. Lord Voldemort, it seemed, took note of the distance between the married Death Eaters and sighed just a little, but then he cleared his throat and said,

"Well. All whom I have Summoned are now here. I have brought you today to discuss the success of our latest mission, as well as to strategise for future endeavours. Yaxley… do tell. What has the Ministry's response been to what happened at that townhouse in London?"

"Complete fear and panic, My Lord," replied Yaxley at once. His confidence was striking to Bellatrix. He was a supremely self-assured wizard, she thought. His dusky blond hair was pulled back in a queue, and he looked around the table as he said, "Every department is scrambling to try to figure out how it is that an ambush like this was allowed to happen. Now, it's well-known that Albus Dumbledore is an enemy of the Dark Lord. And it's well-known that Dumbledore's got friends and allies of his own. But the Ministry does not seem to recognise that there's a real war on. The ineptitude of those in supposed power right now is truly staggering. They will be easily overcome if we continue to persevere."

"Hmm." Voldemort seemed quite pleased with that debriefing. He nodded slowly. "The self-imposed limits of what the Ministry will do to pursue us hobble them. The information with which they are operating is negligible. And we have soldiers…" He looked straight at Bellatrix then and spoke as if she were the only one in the room. "Soldiers willing to murder our enemies without a second's hesitation. Selwyn!"

Everyone at the table jolted a bit at the snap of Voldemort's voice. Bellatrix looked from Picardy Selwyn to his wife and then realised that Voldemort was speaking to the plump wizard with the bushy mustache. He nodded quickly, and Voldemort demanded,

"What have you heard of all this in the newsroom of the _Prophet?_ What are they saying about us?"

"They are b-beginning to become afraid to write of you, My Lord," said Picardy Selwyn, "because they fear that giving you too much exposure will encourage more to join your cause. But the Editor-in-Chief says there is no choice. What's happening, our attacks, are the news, and the _Prophet_ must report the news."

"Let's give them more news, then, shall we?" Voldemort said with a sneer, and a ripple of happy excitement went round the table. Voldemort said quite smoothly, "All of my spies, my plants in the Ministry, in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, in Hogsmeade… I command you to gather as much information as you can, as thoroughly as you can. Keep your eyes and ears open at all times and report to me anything of note. Even if it is something you vaguely suspect might be of even a passing interest, I demand to be made aware of it. Am I understood?"

Francia Selwyn, Avery, Rookwood, and one of the Carrows nodded vigorously, and a few of the others murmured their assent. Voldemort continued,

"The next time we are drawn into combat, I wish for us all to look to our last battle and learn. There were mistakes made. Rodolphus Lestrange, you took a Knockback Jinx and were concussed right out of combat. Meanwhile, your wife blocked the same spell and murdered her enemy in cold blood in less than a minute."

Bellatrix glanced over to Rodolphus to see his pale cheeks go pink. He nodded and whispered something that Bellatrix could not hear. Bellatrix's own face felt warm, and when she looked back to Voldemort, he flicked his eyes around her before saying to the others,

"No hesitation will be permitted. I demand that you perfect your duelling abilities as much as you are able, through theoretical study and practical work. I insist that every single one of you who serves me in combat do so with the flinty resolve of an unrepentant killer, with the competence of a highly trained soldier. I already have these qualities in my ranks; I wish to see them expanded. Am I well and truly understood?"

"Yes, Master," said Rabastan Lestrange firmly. The others assented with nods, pats of the table, and mumbled verbal consent. Bellatrix just gulped. Voldemort dragged his fingers through his dark hair, with its little threads of grey, and he said,

"Dismissed, then. All of you except for Madam Lestrange."

Bellatrix had already told Rodolphus that she'd be staying after the meeting to return Lord Voldemort's book to him, so he wasn't surprised that she was held back. He put his hand on her shoulder and rose with the others, murmuring,

"See you at home."

"Try to stay dry, darling," Bellatrix replied, touching at his fingers. He pulled away, and she sighed as the room cleared out. She wasn't sure whether Voldemort wanted her to sit or stand, so she stayed where she was. Once the room was empty, and the doors had shut, she tapped the cover of the little turquoise book and said,

"_Remittet. Rejicio. __Redire_ _Hexia. _I have learnt the theory of all three Rebounding Shields, My Lord."

"_Remittet,_" he repeated, staring straight at her. "You slash the wand down and it sends the spell straight back at the caster. What happens if they do the same to you? Does it just keep bouncing back and forth forever?"

"No." Bellatrix shook her head. "After more than one attempt at _Remittet,_ one should move on to _Rejicio_."

"Why not just start there?" Voldemort tipped his head and narrowed his eyes, and Bellatrix knew he was testing her. She sucked on her lip and said,

"_Rejicio _involves a more precise wand movement, a swirl that takes longer to cast, and leaves one more susceptible to the spell hitting. It's preferable to begin with _Remittet._ The good thing about _Rejicio_ is that it can be cast nonverbally, but, again, it's more time-consuming and leaves one more vulnerable."

"And what about _Redire_ _Hexia?_" Voldemort inquired, dragging a finger along the edge of the wooden table. Bellatrix shivered a little, for some reason, at the sight of him doing that.

"_Redire_ _Hexia _is a much longer-lasting type of Shield Charm that causes any Jinx or Hex that hits it to rebound straight back to its caster. It gives one protection, but it has a fatal flaw, which is that one can't cast out from within. For example, if one has a _Redirect Hexia_ shield up, a Knockback Jinx would fly off of it, but you'd have to take down the shield in order to cast an offensive spell. This takes time, leaves one vulnerable, and might give a false sense of security."

"So," Voldemort mused, raising his brows, "which method of Rebounding is preferable?"

Bellatrix huffed. "Frankly, My Lord, I think that an ordinary _Protego_ followed by a very rapidly cast offensive spell is probably the best option in most combat situations. But these are useful spells to have in one's arsenal, in case one wishes to send Jinxes and Hexes flying back at casters whilst attending to multiple opponents at one -"

"Multiple opponents." Suddenly a little smile crossed Voldemort's face, and Bellatrix froze. Had she said something wrong? He licked his lip and dragged his finger over the edge of the table again and said, "Tell me more."

"Well," Bellatrix whispered, "I might… you know, if it were quite a large battle and I was fighting three at once or something, then I might need to kill one, send a Stunning Spell flying back at another, and then -"

"Mmm. I like the way you think." Voldemort reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the little turquoise book on the table and nonverbally Summoned it, sending it skittering across the wood towards him. He caught it and turned it over in his hand, and then he set it down before him. He reached into his robe again, and Bellatrix saw him pull out what appeared to be a thin black leather book. She furrowed her brows as he pushed back his chair and rose, walking toward her. She flew to her feet at once; he must never stand whilst she sat. That was disrespectful.

Soon enough he was before her, and she could see now that the little black book in his hand was a notebook of sorts. There was no title on the cover. He held it out to her, and Bellatrix wordlessly accepted it, bowing her head. She opened the notebook and felt her heart begin to thunk in her chest at once.

Handwriting. Script, beautiful script, neat and tidy, filled the pages. He had written in here. This wasn't a published book. He'd written something down for her. Bellatrix blinked quickly and began to read his handwriting.

_OCCLUMENCY - A Theoretical Analysis_

_Before you and I begin our practical exploration of Occlumency, there are several concepts I wish for you to digest, along with a few mindfulness activities that you ought to begin practising on your own._

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed. She raised her eyes to Voldemort and shut the leather notebook, and he cleared his throat roughly.

"Before your Occlumency studies begin, I should like to see you show me your Rebounding work in a practise duel. Here, on the lawn on Malfoy Manor, once the weather clears up. I'm busy tomorrow; come on Tuesday afternoon. You'll have most of the Occlumency notes read by then, so you can ask any questions at that point."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix nodded frantically. She hugged the little notebook and promised, "I shall continue studying diligently."

"I know." He reached to tuck Bellatrix's curls behind her ear, and he smirked a little. "That rain really did soak your hair; it's still damp."

She sucked in air at the way he was observing such a thing about her. Then her eyes fluttered shut, because his fingers migrated from her hair along her jaw, and he bent down to touch his lips to hers. His breath was warm against her mouth as he murmured,

"No nonsense today."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix whispered, but she heard his breath hitch. His other hand was suddenly at her side, along the outside of her thigh, and his fingers worked to pry up her black woolen skirt. Bellatrix gasped, and he kissed her again. This time, his tongue pressed into her mouth, and Bellatrix whimpered a little. She was still holding the leather notebook in which he'd written about Occlumency for her, and so her hands couldn't reach out to him like she wanted to do. Instead she just arched her back a little as his fingers bunched up her skirt, reaching the hem. Soon enough, his hand ventured beneath her skirt, and the backs of his knuckles brushed the inside of Bellatrix's thigh. She moaned helplessly into his kiss, and Voldemort finally released her face so he could tuck his wand away. He snared his fingers into Bellatrix's hair then, holding her tightly with one hand, kissing her, and dusting his knuckles up the inside of her leg.

She was lost, utterly lost to him. If someone would have asked her in that moment who Rodolphus Lestrange was, she would not have had any idea. The only wizard in the world who mattered to Bellatrix was Lord Voldemort. She flushed deeply wet as he trailed up toward her knickers, and when his mouth finally broke from hers, she whispered,

"Oh, help."

He wordlessly touched his forehead to hers and breathed through his parted, swollen lips, his eyes shut. He seemed rather affected by all this, and Bellatrix was compelled to attend to him. Surely she should put the book down, she thought, and part his robes and touch his cock. She should massage him until he found his satisfaction, until he came and made a grand mess. Messes could be cleaned up. But he suddenly hummed, as though he'd been in her head,

"Don't touch me. Not right now, Bella."

"Oh. Erm… yes, My Lord." Bellatrix was confused by that, but she obeyed. His fingertips made contact with the crotch of her cotton knickers then, and Bellatrix gasped desperately. Voldemort's hand cinched in her curls, and he touched his lips to hers as their breath mixed. He dragged his fingers slowly along the material, along the dampened barrier between his skin and hers, and he let out a low noise from the back of his throat.

Bellatrix wanted to scream, to squirm until he did more, but she stood there as he just continued in his course of action. One hand rubbed at her scalp, feeling her rain-kissed curls in his fist. His mouth brushed against hers, his lips rough and his breath warm. His other hand teased at the crotch of her sodden knickers, with just enough pressure to stimulate her but not enough to satisfy her. Bellatrix finally moaned and gripped his notebook so tightly that she was sure she'd somehow muster the strength to rip leather.

"Interesting," Lord Voldemort finally murmured onto Bellatrix's mouth, and when she screwed her eyes shut and managed to find enough breath to speak, she squeaked out,

"Wh-what's interesting, My Lord?"

"How profoundly aroused the human body can become from even the most subtle of contact," he observed, sounding just a little breathless himself. Bellatrix forced her eyes open, and he'd stood back a bit. He licked his lips as he stared down at her. His eyes were dark and sharp, and his cheeks were flushed, a deep rose colour. She watched his throat bob, and she wondered if he wanted her to touch him now. But he just blinked and asked,

"Would you like to finish?"

Bellatrix wasn't entirely certain that she'd understood his question correctly, and she did not want to answer him wrongly, so she chewed her lip and stayed silent. Then her mouth fell open and her breath came in heaving gasps, for he'd used his fingers to push aside the crotch of her knickers. His forefinger and middle finger twisted up into her swollen, soaked entrance, and his thumb pushed at her nub as he asked again, more tightly this time,

"Would you like to finish, Bella?"

"Yes, please, Master," she panted, buckling over a little and hugging the notebook to her chest. She felt his other hand comb her curls back from her face, and then he began to play with her hair, bunching it up in his fist and pulling a little. He yanked her face back just a bit and bent, crushing her mouth with the hardest kiss he'd ever given her. Bellatrix squealed up against him, shocked by the way his tongue curled with hers and yanked at her lip. Meanwhile, his other hand quickened, his fingers hooking and turning inside of her whilst his thumb played over her clit. He flicked and pushed at her most sensitive place, and Bellatrix realised that she was very quickly going to snap.

"_Mmmph__!_" She whined onto his mouth and finally let go of the notebook with one hand, holding it to her chest with her left arm whilst her right fingers delved into Lord Voldemort's robes. She searched, reaching for his trousers, and when she discovered his erection, she cupped it and dragged her thumb over his trousers. She was disobeying him, she realised. He'd told her not to touch him. But she couldn't help herself. She wanted him so badly she could hardly breathe. He released her hair and took hold of her wrist, dragging her hand off of his bulge with a surprisingly gentle touch. His own thumb coursed around the inside of her wrist, and then he released her. All the while, he kissed her mercilessly and touched her with expert skill, and Bellatrix was flung off a ledge.

She felt no shame at all in the way the walls of her womanhood contracted around his fingers, nor in the way she flushed around his hand during her climax. She growled a bit into his kiss as she came, and his hand went back to her jaw to stroke her there a bit. She felt blinding heat take her over for a few moments, and when the overwhelming pleasure and the ringing in her ears had finally passed, she pulled back from Voldemort and gasped for air.

She was still panting, thirsty and struck by what had transpired, as he pulled his hand from underneath her skirt and used a perfect wandless Scouring Charm to clean himself off. He cleared his throat quietly and noted in a huff,

"I said no nonsense today, Bella."

"I'm so sorry, My Lord," Bellatrix mumbled, feeling a bit numb now. She finally raised her eyes to him, and he gave her a long, hard stare. He finally told her,

"All of those notes of Occlumency come from experience, so read them well. I want you to have at least three questions for me on Tuesday when you come to duel with me, and I expect that your Rebounding skills in practise will reflect the depth of your theoretical study. I require, Bellatrix, that your Dark Arts studies be rigorous and thorough, because I know you are capable of being a terrifyingly effective soldier. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, My Lord. Of course." Bellatrix bowed her head, and she kept it low as she pulled her thumb over the leather spine of the notebook he'd given her. Suddenly she felt his forefinger pulling up her chin to look at him, and when she met his eyes, he had a stern expression upon his features.

"I had wondered," he said quietly, "what it might be like to induce pleasure without taking it. An experiment, you understand."

Bellatrix blinked and nodded. An experiment. Of course. Bringing her to a climax whilst refusing to let her touch him had just been research to sate his inquisitive nature. She swallowed hard and asked,

"Will there be anything else today, My Lord?"

"No." He bent just a little, pressed his lips to her forehead, and murmured against her skin, "You may go."

Bellatrix carefully tucked his little leather notebook into her wide belt and pulled her rain cloak off of the back of the chair where she'd been sitting. She flung it around her shoulders and did up the silver clasp, flashing Lord Voldemort a tiny smile. She pulled her still-damp curls over one shoulder and sighed,

"Perhaps the rain has stopped by now."

"It hasn't," he told her. She curled up half her mouth and pulled up the draping hood of her rain cloak, covering her wild mane of black hair. She nodded and pulled her cloak more tightly shut to ensure his notebook would stay dry.

"Thank you, Master," she said, rather meaningfully, and he seemed to perceive the weight in what she said. She was thanking him for the instruction, for the handwritten teachings, for the duel to come, for the physical acts that had passed between them. He just nodded, then dragged his finger along the edge of the table like he'd done before. Bellatrix turned and left without another word, walking through the corridor of Malfoy Manor with quite a bounce in her step and not caring one bit when she emerged out the front door into a complete and utter maelstrom.

**Author's Note: Oh, this is just too much fun. Please do ** **review** **. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

Bellatrix lay in the bed she shared with Rodolphus, facing away from him. She tucked her knees to her chest and dragged her fingers over the thick braid she'd brought over one shoulder. She stared at her strange, bent wand where it lay on her bedside table and remembered the day the wand had chosen her in Ollivander's.

'_Walnut,' Garrick Ollivander had noted that day. 'A wood of great legend, noted for its proclivity to gravitate toward Darkness. Not that that speaks anything of you, my dear.'_

'_Of course not,' Druella Black had snapped, putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder._

'_The wand is unyielding,' Ollivander had said quietly, 'as is, I should think, the witch that shall wield it.'_

Bellatrix curled up her lips a little at the memory of being a wicked little eleven-year-old in Diagon Alley. Tomorrow at ten, she would go to Malfoy Manor and duel with that wand, 'fighting' her lord and master as she showed him in practise what she'd learnt from the book he'd given her. Rebounding spells, intended to send his Toenail-growing Hexes or his Melofors Jinxes back at him, would be sent from Bellatrix's wand. Her eyes flicked to the other book he'd given her, the little notebook in which he'd written notes on Occlumency, and she sighed. She reached for it, opening it flat on the edge of the mattress and reading by moonlight.

_I have always found it useful to make a habit, as frequently as possible, of emptying my mind. At least once a day, I find a quiet place to sit or lie, and I shut my eyes. I count my breaths at first, and then I think of the blackest, thickest darkness I can imagine. If a thought comes into my mind, I acknowledge it, and then dispose of it._

Bellatrix blinked. She had tried this mind-emptying method a few times over the last few days, but she was, by her own assessment, a failure at the task. She could never get her head truly empty. One of the questions she meant to ask Lord Voldemort the next day was just that - how exactly did he send those thoughts away?

"Bella?"

She shut the little notebook and swallowed hard, putting her master's book on the bedside table and rolling to face her husband. Rodolphus stared at her in the pale blue light that bathed the bedroom, and he asked quietly,

"Aren't you going to try to sleep?"

"What about you?" she countered. He quirked up a little smile, but his eyes seemed a bit sad. He murmured then,

"She said no. Rosetta Shacklebolt? She told Rabastan '_not yet._' He's heartbroken. He told me at dinner."

"That little bitch," Bellatrix hissed. "They've been together for ages; how much longer does he need?"

"I don't think she actually wants to marry him, Bella," Rodolphus huffed. Bellatrix licked her bottom lip, swelling through with anger and muttering,

"She's lucky she's a Shacklebolt. I'd kill her for this."

"Why do you think I waited until half-past one to tell you?" Rodolphus smirked. "Listen. Rabastan told Rosetta that if she doesn't want to marry after this long, perhaps they ought to find different partners, you know?"

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded against her pillow. "Yes, I think he ought to find somebody else."

"But the problem is," Rodolphus said carefully, "that everything is so tense right now. Everyone's on edge, what with the war ramping up. I could use your help with some ideas. Have you got any leads?"

"Leads." Bellatrix grinned and squeezed her eyes shut in amusement. "Dolph, you know better than to think that I socialise with packs of witches, don't you?"

"Right." Rodolphus petted at her hair a little then, but Bellatrix flinched a bit. Rodolphus let out a long breath and asked quietly, "Would you like to… erm… you know… do what husbands and wives are meant to do?"

Bellatrix kept her eyes shut and chomped on her lip. She remembered, suddenly, the feel of the Dark Lord's hand trailing up her thigh, of his fingers twisting inside of her, of his mouth crushing hers, of his fist clenching her curls. Research, an experiment, he'd said. He'd just wanted to know what it had felt like to give pleasure without taking it. Still…

"I, erm…" Bellatrix tried and failed to open her eyes. "Not really."

"I understand." Rodolphus' voice was strangely kind. "You've got practise duels in the morning with the Dark Lord, haven't you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix opened her eyes at last and nodded. "My chance to show that I've truly learnt Rebounding."

"You'll do splendidly," Rodolphus assured her. He leaned forward and touched his lips to her cheekbone. He kept his mouth there and continued petting Bellatrix's hair, and he whispered, "You always fight so splendidly for him."

"Dolph." Bellatrix wondered rather frantically if she ought to give him what he wanted, if she ought to let him crawl atop her and move for a while until he found satisfaction. He smelled of rain and wood. He was warm where he touched her. He thought fondly of her. But he pulled back, and his pale eyes did not seem at all angry as he said,

"If it's all the same to you, I'll spend tomorrow at Rabastan's. He could use lots of Wizard's Chess and Firewhisky to take his mind off of Rosetta."

"I'll ask Cissy," Bellatrix told him, "whether she knows of any potential leads for Rabastan. You're a good brother, Dolph."

"You're a good wife," he countered, "and the best of soldiers. Goodnight, Bella."

With that, he rolled over, and Bellatrix did the same, her eyes fluttering shut as she stared at the Dark Lord's black leather notebook.

* * *

"Lucius. Cissy. Stiflingly hot day to just be sitting on a bench, don't you think?" Bellatrix strode from the Apparition Point up to the wrought-iron bench where Narcissa was seated in a beautiful high-necked dress with black lace sleeves. She always looked immaculate for Lucius, Bellatrix thought, and he always looked immaculate for her, with his silvery hair combed just so. The pair of them were like preening birds, she thought with a little roll of her eyes. She put her hands on her hips and glanced at the way Lucius and Narcissa were holding hands on Lucius' thigh.

"Listen. Cissy. Rabastan proposed marriage to Rosetta Shacklebolt," Bellatrix said.

"Did he, at long last?" Lucius sneered. Narcissa elbowed him gently and smiled up at Bellatrix.

"Well, that's marvelous, Bella."

"It would be, if she'd said yes, but she said no," Bellatrix huffed. "So, of course, Rabastan is rather urgently in the market for a suitable replacement. Any ideas?"

"Oh. Goodness." Narcissa looked to Lucius, and Bellatrix wondered for a moment if the two of them had some method of silent communication she didn't know about. Narcissa pinched her lips and looked up at Bellatrix as she said, "Well, we've never told you, because Rabastan was with Rosetta, but Lucius' cousin Laelia Malfoy has a rather ferocious crush on Rabastan Lestrange."

"Laelia?" Bellatrix frowned. "That statuesque Ravenclaw who was a year ahead of you in school? I thought she was working at the Ministry."

"She is. She's in the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Narcissa confirmed. "She told me that she had quite the _thing_ for Rabastan, but she knew he was taken."

"Well, perhaps you could help me get something set up," Bellatrix suggested.

"Perhaps a double dinner date, as it were," Lucius Malfoy purred. "We could host Rabastan and Laelia here at the Manor for a meal, Cissy, and encourage them to be social with one another."

"But Bella and Rodolphus would have to come, too!" Narcissa exclaimed, and Bellatrix raised her eyebrows at Lucius, who cleared his throat as his high cheekbones pinked. He quirked up an awkward little smile and affirmed,

"Yes, of course. Bellatrix and Rodolphus must be there. Cissy, you'll have owls sent out with invitations soon, won't you?"

"Yes! It'll be grand," Cissy said, smiling. Then something seemed to catch her light eyes, and her smile faded. She flew to her feet, yanking Lucius up with her. She dipped into a little curtsy, and Lucius bowed his head, releasing Narcissa's hand at once. Bellatrix turned and saw Lord Voldemort striding out of Malfoy Manor, walking down the front steps with his wand in his hand. He had on billowing, lightweight robes in midnight blue. As he approached Bellatrix, she reached into her wide belt and pulled out his small black notebook, smiling a little to herself.

"My Lord," she said quietly. Voldemort stepped up to the part of the garden where Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa were standing, and he looked at the book in Bellatrix's hand.

"You've done your homework, I presume?" he asked without pretense. Bellatrix nodded and said,

"I have, Master."

"Good. Come with me. We'll duel in the field beside the house. Good day, Narcissa. Lucius."

"My Lord," Narcissa hummed, and Lucius bowed reverently. Voldemort stalked off through the rose bushes, and Bellatrix followed him as quickly as she could manage. She had to trot to keep up with him, but she was able to move quickly in the clothes she'd worn today. She'd come ready for combat in black leggings, a belted black tunic, and flat black boots. Her wild curls were pulled halfway back and secured with a shell clasp, and she'd even lined her eyes thickly with black kohl today. Rodolphus had told her before she'd left their home that she looked fierce, like a warrior. Bellatrix liked it that way, but she also found that a niggling bit of her wondered if Lord Voldemort might find her just a little bit pretty.

They approached the open field beyond the side of Malfoy Manor, where the neatly manicured gardens gave way to a gently rolling expanse of grass and a mighty oak tree. Bellatrix watched as Voldemort turned around and looked at the small notebook in Bellatrix's hand again.

"Keep that," he told her, and she nodded firmly, tucking it back into her belt. She stared up at him, and in the sunshine, his eyes seemed just a little bit lighter brown than usual. He demanded,

"Three questions. I told you to have three questions ready for me about Occlumency."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort began walking toward the oak tree, and Bellatrix walked alongside him. She pulled her own wand out of its holster and carefully fingered the walnut handle, inquiring, "How do you shove away the thoughts when you're practising keeping your mind empty? I can't seem to make them go away."

"You destroy the thoughts," Voldemort instructed her as they neared the tree, "the same way you destroy everything else, Bella. Light them on fire in your mind. Send Blasting Curses at them. End them with flashes of jade green light. Wreck the thoughts until there is nothing but velvet black in your head."

Bellatrix sighed but looked up to him and nodded. "I shall keep trying. I shall try harder."

"Second question?" He leaned with one hand against the trunk of the tree and twirled his wand with his other hand, an act that was rather alluring. Bellatrix licked her lip and asked,

"How do you cope if the Legilimens you're facing brings forth a memory that is… difficult? You know, traumatic or embarrassing?"

"You mustn't let the Legilimens dig that far," Voldemort said simply, "but if they do, you must push away all of your emotions. Destroy all feeling connected to the memory and vacate your mind of thought. Leave no trace of emotion. Leave no more thought to be found."

Bellatrix shut her eyes, for this was by far the most complicated magical theory that had ever been imparted upon her. She kept her eyes closed as she said,

"My third question is… will you teach me Legilimency, Master, if I manage to become an Occlumens?"

"No," he said instantaneously. Bellatrix opened her eyes and frowned just a little, resisting the urge to ask why not. He opened his mouth and said nothing at first, but then he explained, "You are a very powerful witch, Bellatrix. I am a very accomplished Occlumens. And I do put my faith in you as my servant. Still, the ability to… there are certain things even you must never be able to… no, it is not a skill I will ever teach you. In any case, most truly skilled Legilimens are born, not made. Occlumency is much more easily learnt than Legilimency."

"Were you born a Legilimens, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, and he immediately snapped,

"That is _four_ questions." Then his face softened a little, and he stopped twirling his wand. "Yes. I was. Do not fret; you'll master Occlumency just fine. Keep working on emptying your mind. Soon we shall have session wherein I enter your mind and you practise pushing me out. Believe it or not, that's the easy part. The removal of emotion and thought is the difficult bit; if you can achieve that, I won't be able to penetrate your thoughts."

She felt her cheeks go warm, and she bowed her head, staring at the grass between them. Her boots and his were so close right now, she thought distantly. She thought of reading his handwriting late at night, of dusting her fingertips over the places were the nib of his quill had dug into the paper.

"Right now, though, your mind is wide open, so let us turn our attentions to duelling," Voldemort suggested, and Bellatrix gulped. She raised her face to him and gripped her wand more carefully.

"I am ready," she promised him. "Ready to Rebound your Hexes and Jinxes, Master."

"Good," he said, tipping his head. "Show me."

He stepped out from the shade of the oak tree, and Bellatrix followed him. She walked away from him, about twenty paces, and then she turned to face him. There would be no silly bowing today; this wasn't a Duelling Club. She raised her wand toward her lord and master, her right arm shaking as she realised she was aiming a weapon at the wizard she served and adored. He smirked a little at her and admitted,

"Feels a bit off, being on the receiving end of your viciousness."

"I will not be vicious with you, My Lord; I promise," Bellatrix called. Her curls blew around her in the breeze, and she squinted in the sunlight. Voldemort tipped his head back and actually laughed a little, and he said,

"Oh, do be just a little vicious, Bella. I like you that way, hmm?"

He raised his own pale wand towards her, and Bellatrix shivered at the sight of him staring her down in a combative stance. They had always fought together, never against one another. Not even in training. She licked her dry bottom lip and prepared herself for anything, but she still flinched when a jet of purple sparks flew out of Voldemort's wand and rocketed at her. He had cast the Revulsion Jinx nonverbally, and it hit her so quickly that she didn't even properly calibrate the spell's impact in order to block it in any way. The Jinx forced her to release her grip on her wand, which tumbled to the grass. Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she stared at Voldemort for a moment. He tipped his head and gave her a very dissatisfied look before calling out,

"What the blazes was that?"

"I'm sorry, Master. I wasn't thinking quickly enough." Bellatrix bent and picked up her wand, and Voldemort barked at her,

"In a battle, that spell could've been anything. I know it's odd to be duelling me, Bella, but I know you can think far more quickly than that. Do better. Now."

"Yes, Master," she nodded, steeling herself. She aimed her wand at him again, and he raised his own pale yew weapon. A jet of orange light flew from Voldemort's wand in a thin, bright stream that crackled and whipped, and Bellatrix's mind worked far more effectively this time.

"_Remittet__!_" She slashed her wand downward, and the bubbling orange light slammed off an invisible barrier in front of her. It ricocheted quickly back towards Voldemort, who dragged his wand briskly through the air and called out,

"_Protego__._"

Bellatrix watched the orange light sparkle and dissolve then, and Voldemort smirked at her. He nodded.

"Well done." Suddenly he whipped his arm over his head, and blue lightning bolts slammed through the air toward Bellatrix. She gasped and jabbed her wand skyward, shouting,

"_Redire_ _Hexia__!_"

A throbbing bubble, a dome of pinkish-silver light, webbed its way around Bellatrix. The lightning bolts from the Tempest Jinx impacted the shield, and it was as if they'd collided with stone. Bellatrix crouched down, still holding her wand upward, and waited for the lightning to shoot backward toward Voldemort. It ricocheted back so quickly that she could tell even he struggled to block it, and she heard him call out a _Remittet_ of his own. The lightning bounced back to the shield Bellatrix hand put up, then back to Voldemort, and this time he dissolved the storm. Bellatrix finally lowered her shield, but the very second he did, Voldemort cried out,

"_Flipendo__!"_

Bellatrix swirled her wand as quickly as she could and nonverbally incanted _Rejicio__!_ The Knockback Jinx Lord Voldemort had sent at her slammed off the air before her and ripped straight back at Voldemort. He whisked it away with a nonverbal _Protego_, but he skidded backward on the grass. Finally he grinned and strode toward Bellatrix, and he said,

"Enough. You have proven yourself."

"Master." She bowed her head, feeling very sincerely as though the only thing in all the world that mattered was pleasing him. All she wanted was to make him feel like she was useful, like she was doing well in her studies, like her body brought him some semblance of pleasure. Her head was abruptly flooded with thoughts of being in his office, of tasting cucumber and mint in his deep kisses as his hand worked on her, of -

"Bellatrix."

She raised her eyes, and Voldemort was staring down at her with a rather stern look. She wondered if she had made him angry, but his lips parted and he said softly,

"You are doing well. In… in your study of the Dark Arts."

"Thank you, Master. I shall work ever harder for you," she promised.

"I know," he said. He sniffed a little and asked, "When is that silly little dinner party you've all got planned, hmm?"

Bellatrix frowned, confused. How did he know about that? But then she realised… of course. He was an accomplished Legilimens. He could know anything he wanted to know.

"We haven't set a date yet, I don't think, My Lord," Bellatrix said. "Soon, I should think."

"Right. Well, if you're at the Manor for dinner, come to my office and we will, erm… discuss your studies," he said. She stared right at him, suddenly feeling more bold than usual, and she whispered,

"I shall come to Malfoy Manor whenever you command me to, My Lord."

"Quite so." He chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then said, "I have rather the run of the place this weekend; the Malfoys are going to their home in Scotland to _get away from things_ for a few days."

"Oh, yes. Cissy had mentioned that. Lucius tried to invite her, but Abraxas and Mrs Malfoy said no." Bellatrix smirked. "Poor lamb just needs to be married already."

"In any case," Voldemort said, almost too loudly, though they were outdoors, "I think I should like for you to come Friday evening, to my office, to discuss Occlumency. That will give you a few days to ponder the questions you brought today and to continue working on emptying your mind of thoughts and emotions."

"Of course, My Lord." Bellatrix blinked. "What time shall I come?"

"Five." Voldemort sniffed. "Be here at five on Friday."

Bellatrix felt her stomach twist. Five o'clock. Would she dine with him? Would they… would he touch her again? She closed her eyes and said,

"I shall be here, Master. To discuss Occlumency with you."

"Bella," he said, and his voice was so strange then that she forced herself to look at him. He seemed almost nervous as he said,

"I wonder… I am just a bit curious, you see, about the subject of anticipation."

She just stared, unable to speak. He raised one hand to hold her face, and he bent down until his lips were beside her ear.

"I find myself wondering, Bellatrix, how well two grown people who know full well what is going to happen will handle a meal and a meeting and the days that come before all of that… hmm?"

He brushed his lips along her jaw, and Bellatrix shivered, flushing warm. She struggled to breathe, and she finally whispered,

"Someone may see, Master."

"Of course you're right. How silly of me, kissing you out here like an infatuated schoolboy." He stood up and narrowed his eyes down at her. "I shall save it all for Friday. Five o'clock, Bella."

Then he turned and walked away, his robes billowing about him, leaving her standing there, a panting mess on the lawn.

**Author's Note: If you can taste the lemon coming, clap your hands! *clap, clap***


	5. Chapter 5

"Dolph?" Bellatrix went into the parlour where Rodolphus was sitting with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and he folded the newspaper and set it down. Then his pale eyes grew very wide, and his full lips fell open, and he mused,

"You are the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Oh." Bellatrix glanced down at herself and felt her cheeks go warm. She'd put on a gown of black silk with velvet damask stamping. The long, tight sleeves had velvet cuffs, and there was a broad collar of black velvet around her neck. She'd worn a pendant of black glass in a heavy teardrop, and she'd put on dark makeup. She'd styled her hair in tight milkmaid braids that criss-crossed her head and had little pins of black glass beads stuck into them. Now she stared at Rodolphus and asked,

"Do I look all right?"

"Bella." Rodolphus stood from his armchair, walking over to her. He smiled down at her and twined a stray, wispy curl around his finger, tucking it behind her ear. "You are beautiful. And, yes, I well know that he will agree."

Bellatrix shut her eyes and shook her head. "He is our master, Dolph; it's not -"

"I'm not a fool." Rodolphus dragged his knuckle over Bellatrix's jaw and bent down until he could plant a very soft kiss upon her rose-red lips. "I am many things, Bellatrix, but I am not a fool. And I am not a jealous little boy, either."

He stood upright, and he nodded down at her. He curled up his lips, but the smile did not reach his blue eyes. Bellatrix felt her chest wrench, and she reached to touch at his forearm. He seized her fingers in his, brought them to his lips, and kissed them as he said,

"Go. It's nearly five. You mustn't be late."

"Right." Bellatrix gulped. "I'll be home… you know. Soon."

"Take your time, little soldier." Rodolphus smiled sadly again and said, "Go learn more about murder. My awful little wife; how delightful you are."

"Dolph." Bellatrix shook her head and blushed a bit. She sighed and stepped back from him, reaching into the holster at her hip and pulling out her wand. She held fast to it and flashed him one final look before Disapparating, thinking of Malfoy Manor. She _whooshed_ into the pinching black void for a brief moment, and then she landed hard upon the grass in the Malfoys' garden. She scurried towards the front steps of the Manor, her gown's skirts whisking around her legs as she walked. She had not dressed for battle today. She had dressed for dinner.

Bellatrix tucked her wand away again and climbed the stairs up to the front doors of the Manor, and she raised her hand to the knocker. Was it quite five yet? Was she too early? Too late? She swallowed hard and decided to just knock. She slammed the knocker onto the door four or five times and then waited. After a moment, the door opened slowly, and a shivering little House-Elf stood before Bellatrix. Dobby, the creature's name was.

"Madam Lestrange. The Dark Lord is expecting you, Madam," said Dobby, sounding frightened. "Please do come inside."

"I know the way to his office," Bellatrix growled, swishing into the foyer, but Dobby stammered,

"D-Dobby is meant to show Madam Lestrange to the purple parlour, not the office, Madam!"

"The parlour," Bellatrix repeated. "Oh. I see."

Her stomach quivered with a bit of excitement at the idea of actually socialising with him, or at least at the idea of spending time alone with him outside of combat or his office. She walked with Dobby up the stairs and down the corridor, and Dobby grandly gestured toward a set of open doors that led to an elegantly appointed parlour with plum-coloured carpets, curtains, and furniture and heavy wood paneling.

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, stepping into the parlour and dipping at once into a curtsy. Lord Voldemort was sitting in a leather wingback chair with a glass of red wine in his hand, and he slowly rose as Bellatrix entered. He extended his fingers and wandlessly slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Dobby alone in the corridor.

"Madam Lestrange," he said tightly. She looked at him then, and she realised she had not been the only one to dress up. He was wearing black brocade robes that were far more formal and neatly tailored than anything he usually wore. She was accustomed to seeing him in loose, billowing linen, but today he looked professional, almost ceremonial. He reached down to the low table near him and picked up another glass of red wine, and then he stalked across the room toward Bellatrix. He held out the glass towards her and said,

"Elf-Made. A fine vintage. Do you care for wine?"

"Thank you, Master." Bellatrix took the glass and was about to sip, but he narrowed his eyes at her and smirked.

"You don't like wine. Not really."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open. She said nothing, shaking her head a little.

"With Occlumency," Voldemort said, "you could hide that fact from me. But right now I can plainly see in your head that you don't really like to drink at all. Hmm."

He plucked the glass of wine out of her hand and turned, walking back toward the chair where he'd been sitting. He set both glasses of wine down as Bellatrix wondered just how he'd managed to figure out that she did not care for wine. She hadn't even really been thinking about it as he'd handed her the glass.

"Legilimency is far more complicated than straightforward mind-reading, Bella," Voldemort pronounced, "and Occlumency is far more nuanced than simple blockage. There is subtlety and refinement in all of this."

"Of course, My Lord." She walked toward him, chewing her lip and feeling very glad she'd enchanted all her makeup to stay put until she Scoured it off.

"As it turns out," she said, "Cissy got to go with the Malfoys on their little holiday."

"Yes, I heard," Voldemort said, sounding and looking amused. "Lucius said he wouldn't go without her, since he's of age and of no obligation to go. I said that if Lucius didn't go, Abraxas and Yarla couldn't go. So that rather forced their hands, and now Narcissa's with them."

"Everybody wins," Bellatrix shrugged with a little smirk, and Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"Everybody but Yarla Malfoy, I should think. Your little sister drives her batty."

"Oh, does she?" Bellatrix could not help but laugh at that. "She drives me batty, too."

"I mean to make Narcissa a Death Eater," Voldemort said a bit gravely, and Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. Voldemort continued, "Yarla doesn't have the wherewithal for this sort of thing, but Narcissa needs to be the one hosting get-togethers, arranging the social lives of my followers. Organising the upper crust of the new civilisation we're promoting, you understand."

"Well," Bellatrix demurred, "Cissy will be perfect for that, My Lord."

"Hmm. Once she's back from Scotland, I'll put the Dark Mark upon her. You'll counsel her through what it means to be truly loyal to me." He nodded, and Bellatrix affirmed,

"Of course I will."

"You brought your notebook?" Voldemort prompted her then, sinking into one armchair and gesturing to the one opposite her. Bellatrix reached into the large pocket in the skirt of her gown and pulled out the notebook he'd filled with his handwriting. She'd grown quite attached to it by now. She sat down and held the book in her lap, confirming,

"I have been studying diligently, Master, and I can now manage to empty my mind so completely that Rodolphus found me in something of a trance this morning. Apparently I'd been sitting in the bath for an hour in silence with my eyes shut. He thought I was dead."

She choked out a little laugh, but Voldemort gave her a serious look and nodded.

"Good."

She let her smile falter, and she asked,

"What shall I do next for you, Master?"

He tipped his head and sighed. "Go blank for me now, Bella. _Legilimens__._"

Bellatrix felt a thudding crash in her mind, as though he'd fully invaded her consciousness. She knew that he was often in her mind without her knowing, but right now he was flicking through thoughts and memories with reckless abandon, as though they were books in a library he was free to peruse. Bellatrix mentally watched, horrified as vivid images whirred by.

_She was a girl, tossing an adder she'd found up into a tree. Narcissa was shrieking at her to stop. Andromeda __was screaming_ _that she'd go fetch their mother. The snake was landing on the ground and Bellatrix was tossing it right back up again…_

_She was a third-year __Slytherin_ _sitting in the Common Room, making eye contact with Rian Shacklebolt, a fourth-year Beater on the Quidditch team who possessed the mental capacity of a mountain troll. He was grinning __broadly __at Bellatrix, and she was covering up her face with a book to escape his gaze…_

_She was lying under Rodolphus, her hands rubbing up and down his bare arms as he swayed atop her. He was murmuring to her how pretty she was, telling her that this __felt_ _good, and -_

Bellatrix felt a painful rip inside her head, like fabric being roughly torn. Her brain abruptly felt as though someone were tearing up parchment inside of it, and there was a yanking, pulling sensation. She blinked and stared at Voldemort, and he glared back at her.

"I told you to go blank," he snapped. Bellatrix let out a shaking breath and admitted,

"I… I tried, Master, but I couldn't destroy the thoughts. It was like living them all over again; I couldn't -"

"I confess myself disappointed in you," Voldemort sneered. "Evidently, my theoretical instruction was inadequate."

"Please, My Lord," Bellatrix begged, "allow me to try again."

He lowered his eyes, picked at his black brocade robe, and muttered quietly, "_Legilimens__._"

Once more, Bellatrix felt the slam of him entering her mind. She immediately concentrated on what the thought he brought forth made her feel. It was an image of her killing Adonis Copper, of her kicking his corpse and taunting him in death. Bellatrix smirked a little, savoured the feel of the memory, and then shoved aside the thought. She fired a Killing Curse at the entire idea of it, blasting it to bits, letting the inky blackness of emotional nothingness devour the contents of her mind.

"Yes," she heard Voldemort hiss, and Bellatrix blinked a few times, smiling weakly.

"Have I done it, Master?"

"Yes." He pushed himself off the arms of his chair, and Bellatrix flew to her feet. She walked around the low table and neared him, and he reached out for her. He made contact with her jaw as her fingers brushed along her skin, making her tingle. Rodolphus had touched her earlier, but Bellatrix had felt nothing like this. She drew nearer to him and sucked in air hard as his left hand flew to her waist. He pulled her against his body, flush up onto his torso, his hand migrating to her back. His right fingertips slid from her chin to her ear, and he bent down.

Bellatrix moaned helplessly the instant her mouth crashed against hers. His lips urged hers open, and his tongue twined with hers. He dragged his tongue along the roof of her mouth, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Bellatrix impulsively grabbed at his face, feeling far too bold, but he did not protest.

"No nonsense yet," he murmured onto her mouth, pulling away just a little bit. His fingers tightened on her back, and she nodded. His forehead touched to hers, and he let out a low rumble of a laugh. "I want to feed you dinner first, hm?"

She shut her eyes and quirked up half her mouth, answering quietly,

"Dinner sounds nice, Master."

"You don't even know what we're eating yet," Voldemort muttered, kissing her again. She drowned in him for a moment, feeling his thumb brush under her eye. "We are having lamb chops with mint sauce."

Bellatrix froze. His lips grazed against hers, and she mumbled,

"Lamb chops are my very favourite."

"I know," he replied slyly. "You're still not quite accomplished with Occlumency. I searched your mind for the idea on Tuesday and instructed the elf."

"Master." Bellatrix cinched her fingers on his face, feeling the slightest hint of scruff beneath her skin. She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back a little and whispered again,

"No nonsense yet."

"Mmph," she whined, sounding like a child to her own ears. He smirked down at her and raised one brow. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his neatly tailored black brocade robe and said,

"I told you that I was curious about anticipation. Will you squirm on your dinner chair, Bella? Hmm?"

She felt her cheeks go very hot indeed then, and she whispered desperately,

"I probably will."

He laughed then, lowering his gaze and releasing her. He dragged his thumb over his bottom lip and noted softly,

"Your dress looks more than a little inconvenient."

She huffed a breath, feeling very anxious all of a sudden. _Inconvenient - _to take off, he meant. She sucked her lip and assured him,

"It just buttons down the back and slips right off, Master."

His eyes shut, and he seemed to be imagining that. He seemed to be standing there picturing the idea of undoing her buttons, of pulling off her gown, and she reached until she could press her hand flat against his chest. She felt the way his breath came in shallow pants, and when he bent down as if to kiss her, she reminded him,

"Not yet, Master, you said."

"Bella," he growled, brushing his mouth onto hers. She let him kiss her a little, but then she turned her face away a bit, and he choked out a frustrated, amused sort of sound. "My, what a dedicated little servant you are. So committed to my curiosity."

Bellatrix scratched her fingernails over the brocade on his chest, and then she asked quietly,

"What time is dinner, My Lord?"

"Whenever you're hungry," he told her, taking a step back. She met his eyes and smirked.

"I am very hungry."

He let out a long breath at that, and he nodded. "So am I. Let's go eat."

* * *

Bellatrix cut off a bite of lamb, which was slathered in mint sauce, and brought it to her lips. She chewed and washed the bite down with a gulp of chilled water, and she declared,

"Well, My Lord, this is the finest meal I've had in some time."

"Does your husband not serve you lamb?" Voldemort teased, spearing a bite of greens and chewing them. Bellatrix smiled a bite and shook her head.

"We eat it, from time to time, but it seems Dobby cooks it better. In any case, the company is without competition."

"I want you to kill again for me, very soon," Voldemort said suddenly. Bellatrix froze and stared across the dining room table at him. She nodded.

"When, My Lord?"

He licked his lips, reaching for his glass of wine. He sipped, set it down, and said,

"Ishmael Prewett. Soon."

"The Prewetts," Bellatrix spat, setting down her fork and knife. "Blood Traitors, the lot of them. Ishmael was in my year at Hogwarts; he was a Hufflepuff. His cousins Molly, Gideon, and Fabian were Gryffindors, they -"

"Are _all_ known to be friendly in some capacity with Albus Dumbledore," affirmed Voldemort. "Ishmael is the weak link. He's married a Squib, and they live in a secluded home outside Carlisle in Cumbria."

"You want us to go there and take them out," Bellatrix nodded. "Will this be another ambush, My Lord?"

"Bella, I'm sending you alone," he said. "You're more than capable of handling one Blood Traitor and a Squib."

She smiled, swelling with happiness at her assignment. She nodded and contentedly cut herself another bite of meat. She swallowed it and shrugged,

"This will set tongues to wagging at the Ministry again. I can read the _Daily Prophet's_ headline now - _ISHMAEL PREWETT AND INNOCENT WIFE BRUTALLY MURDERED INSIDE -"_

She had to stop then, for she was giggling like mad, and when she looked across the table, Voldemort was giving her a strange look. He was smiling just a bit, and his eyes were shining, but she could read something else. Craving, longing. Desire. It made him want her, seeing her bloodlust in full force like this. He liked when she became just a little unhinged. Bellatrix dragged her tongue along her lip and said softly,

"I'll kill Ishmael quickly, and I'll take my time with the Squib. Give her a good solid fifteen minutes on the Cruciatus before I dispose of her like the vermin she is."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort's eyes shut, and his fingers tightly gripped the edge of the dining room table.

"Or perhaps I'll do it the other way round. Immobilise Ishmael and make him watch me torture his wife, then kill her, then kill him. I dunno; I'll come up with something. It'll be such fun. Oh, My Lord, it will be so much fun."

"_Bellatrix._" He snarled her name, the syllables rippling through the air like the menacing sound of a predator, and when she found his gaze again, his eyes flashed so wildly that she swore they glowed red for a moment.

"Get over here," he whispered, so quietly that she could hardly hear him. She blinked and rose from her chair, and when she walked around the outside of the dining room table, she felt her skin tingle, felt magic crackling in the air. Was it hers or his, she wondered?

She reached the place where he sat, and he pushed his chair back. He slowly stood, and then he stared down at her.

"You are a savage, barbaric killer," he purred, reaching to pet her cheek with his knuckle, "and you are my soldier. You fight for me."

"I kill for you, My Lord and Master," Bellatrix replied, putting her hand to his chest like she'd done in the parlour. Her other hand followed, and some wild instinct told her to work at the silver hook-and-eye clasps running down the front of Voldemort's black brocade robe. She had no permission to undress him, but she began unhooking, and he just groaned a little.

_No nonsense yet,_ she thought, but his own hands wrapped around the back of her body and went between her shoulders. His fingers were deft and able as he started working on the small, round black buttons that bound her gown shut. Soon enough, they were each set to the task of undoing the other's clothing, with his fingers dancing down her back and her fingers fumbling down his front. Eventually, she pushed at his heavy robe, and he shucked it, letting it fall to the floor of the dining room and leaving him in a thin black tunic tucked into black breeches and flat boots. Bellatrix yanked at his waist until the linen tunic came out of his breeches, and he helped her with the tie on the breeches. He shoved them down with his underwear and kicked them away with his boots, and then suddenly Lord Voldemort was naked in front of Bellatrix Lestrange.

He was leaner, perhaps, than she'd anticipated him being. His voluminous clothing always made him seem bulkier. But his arms and chest were thin, and his stomach was completely flat. He had a dusting of greying hair on his chest, and his rather impressive cock stood fully at attention. Bellatrix flicked her eyes away from it, but he murmured,

"You can look."

"Master," she whispered, unsure of what to do or say. She'd started this; she'd been the one to begin taking his clothes off. Now she was too shy to even touch him. Lucky for her, he was not shy. He reached for her and pulled at her dress, sliding the black silk and velvet forward and up. She raised her arms and wriggled a little until the dress came off. She wasn't lying; it really did slip off easily, leaving her standing in a black lace bra and a pair of black cotton knickers. Voldemort eyed her, surveying her like she was a choice cut of meat for sale, and then he locked his eyes onto hers and declared,

"Perfectly lovely."

She could have died right then, she thought, and she would have been the happiest she'd ever been. She wouldn't have ever needed anything again, for she'd been stripped before Lord Voldemort and he'd decided that she was _perfectly __lovely._ She whimpered a little and took off her bra and knickers for him, tossing them away with her dress. Then, suddenly, everything was happening very quickly.

He was shoving her roughly toward the paneled wall, and Bellatrix was gasping for air as one of his hands grasped at a breast. He was clutching her backside in his other hand; he was crushing her mouth with a kiss. She slammed up against the wood and moaned up onto him, arching her back until his cock rubbed her stomach. She ground on him a little, and then he broke free and hissed into her ear,

"I find I am no longer curious about anticipation, Bellatrix."

"No?" she squealed, and he huffed,

"Now I want to know all about satisfaction."

She wanted to have some witty comeback about how surely he'd known a great deal of satisfaction already in his life, but she couldn't breathe enough to talk. His mouth latched onto the flesh beneath her ear and suckled hard, and Bellatrix sank her fingernails helplessly into the skin between his shoulder blades. Realising at once that she'd hurt him, she let up her pressure, but he did not complain. Instead, he hoisted her up against the wall, shoving her roughly onto the wood and grunting onto her neck,

"Wrap your legs round me. Now."

She obeyed, shocked by his strength. She wrapped her arms and legs snugly around him as he slammed her against the wall again and demanded,

"Are you protected?"

"Erm… oh. Yes. Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix flushed hotter than ever, remembering the day a few months ago that she'd taken a reversible but long-lasting contraceptive potion. Wartime was no time for motherhood.

Suddenly she felt him at her entrance, felt his tip lined up with her walls, and when he drove in, she cried out into the crook of his shoulder. He wrenched her back onto the wall, shoving at her shoulders to pin her against the wood. She cinched her arms and legs more securely around him, and he pumped his hips as he stared right at her and declared breathlessly,

"I am an old man, but this is _not_ going to last long."

"Mmph." She drove her head back against the wood and was shocked when he closed the gap between them, kissing at her neck again. He adjusted the angle he was using to drill her against the wall, and suddenly it felt like too much. The grinding, the nakedness of the two of them, the warmth of him, the feel of him filling her… Bellatrix felt his teeth nibble just a _bit_ too hard at a spot on her neck, and she cried out loudly. She squeezed her arms and tightened her legs, and she whispered desperately,

"I'm going to come."

"Mmm-hmm." He would leave marks, she thought frantically. Rodolphus would see marks on her neck. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care very much about that right now. She was too busy experiencing a trembling climax, one that rushed through her and set her veins blazing. She was still panting and moaning, limp and weak from her high, when Voldemort started barreling so roughly that it hurt. He finally pounded her one time and did not keep going, slamming his body against hers and keeping it there. He let his cheek rest on hers and just breathed for a moment, and then Bellatrix felt his cock throbbing and twitching inside of her.

"Disentangling this arrangement ought to be… fun," he mumbled at last, and she choked out a little laugh. He was right, though; it was more than a little awkward for him to pull out of her and bring a stream of his come with him. It was just a bit embarrassing for Bellatrix to have it streaming down the insides of her thighs as she wobbled on sore legs toward her pile of clothes. She used her own wand to surreptitiously clean herself up, and as she and Voldemort dressed in silence, she felt like an enormous weight had settled over the dining room.

Bellatrix pulled her wand in a straight line up her back and muttered a Fastening Charm, and she watched Voldemort furrow his brows. She wondered what was wrong. Had she made him cross?

"Quite the contrary." Lord Voldemort did up the last clasp on his black brocade robe.

"I thought you said that Legilimency wasn't mind reading, My Lord," Bellatrix puffed. Voldemort raised his eyebrows at her and said,

"I told you that it was far more complicated than straightforward mind-reading, which it is."

Bellatrix shut her eyes for a moment and wrenched away everything in her mind. Every feeling, every sensation, every emotion within her head was snuffed out like the flame of a candle. Black night washed over her mind. She opened her eyes, and when she met Lord Voldemort's eyes again, he walked very slowly toward her and nodded slowly.

"Magnificent," he said softly. Bellatrix felt her eyes well heavily, and she blinked very quickly, trying not to cry. She thought back to what he'd said to her, not so very long ago.

_You are a __beautifully __impressive murderess. But you __could_ _be… magnificent._

"I just want to please you, Master," Bellatrix whispered. "It's all I want."

"I know," he affirmed. He sighed and licked his lips as he said, "I want you to come back here tomorrow morning. For more studies."

"More Occlumency, Master?" Bellatrix questioned, but Voldemort shook his head and said,

"More theory. Come ready to take notes; I've a lecture ready for you." He quirked up half his mouth, and Bellatrix smiled. He started fussing with her hair then, and she realised he was pushing at fallen curls and tendrils. He sank his teeth into his lip and muttered, "I destroyed your hairstyle."

She reached up and pulled at pins, yanking them out of the braids. Soon enough, she could shake out her hair, and her curls tumbled down over her shoulders. Voldemort tipped his head and said sarcastically,

"Hmm. Yes. Now, of course, your husband won't suspect a thing."

"I don't think he much minds, My Lord," Bellatrix said, dragging her fingers through her hair. Voldemort breathed in slowly and said under his breath,

"Cinnamon and clove, you carry about you."

She wanted to tell him that he smelled like the wintry sea. Somehow, it didn't feel right. She finally just brushed her fingers over her chest, and she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his brocade robe. Her thumb dusted over one of his silver clasps, and she realised just how cloying and obnoxious she was being. He did not complain, but, still, she knew she was being ridiculous. She sucked in air and gulped, stepping back.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said, humiliated.

"I shall see you tomorrow, then," he said tightly. "I, erm… I… I'll be teaching you to Curse objects."

Bellatrix flashed him a smile and curtsied. She bowed her head and murmured, "Until tomorrow, then, My Lord."

"Do you need Dobby to show you out?" Voldemort sniffed, but Bellatrix shook her head and said,

"N-No, My Lord. I'll be here tomorrow." She started to walk by him, but he caught her round one of her velvet wrist cuffs until she whirled around. She gasped as he pulled her nearby the small of her back, and he bent down, pressing his lips to hers.

"Are you eager to learn from me, Bella?" he hummed onto her mouth. She nodded, and he squeezed her wrist a little. She whispered,

"I want to learn from you."

"We shall see," he said, and he kissed her carefully again. He released her, and she stumbled away, feeling dizzy. She nodded, shutting her eyes for a brief moment and then opening them again with a blank mind. She rushed out of the dining room as quickly as she could, desperate for some reason to escape the way her lord and master had completely overwhelmed her.

**A/N: Whew! This chapter ran away from me a little! Please ** **do review** **.**

**Author's Note:**

> Please do review!


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